


Not Mine to Love

by Sabeley



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Derek, Cheating, F/M, First Time, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Phone Sex, Roommates, Sexting, break ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabeley/pseuds/Sabeley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been awkward then, as the haze of lust left them, but Derek really didn’t mind the fact that Stiles was collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily. He didn’t care that he was naked in his roommate’s bed, coming down from the best orgasm he had ever had. He didn’t even care that he had just lost his virginity to someone who wasn’t Jennifer. </p>
<p>“That can’t happen again,” he said simply.</p>
<p>It happened twice more that night and it never really stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Mine to Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is 50% porn, 50% angst. You have been warned.
> 
> Also, this is a cheating fic. Derek is actively cheating on his girlfriend for pretty much the entire duration of this fic. If that's not something you're into, please don't read.
> 
> Let me know if I've forgotten to tag anything!

There were two possible explanations for why Stiles wasn’t answering Derek’s increasingly desperate texts: either he hadn’t gotten them or he was too pissed off to bother responding. Neither option was going to end well because Stiles would be walking through the door any minute and—Derek was in trouble. 

He was sitting on the couch in the common area of the dorm suite they shared, hands clenched tightly by his sides with a movie he didn’t want to watch paused on the TV in front of him. How had this happened? How had he _let_ this happen? Stiles and he had been planning this weekend for months and one slip of the tongue had ruined it before it had even begun. Stiles was going to kill him. 

Seconds later the door was thrown open and Stiles crashed into the dorm room, his backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Derek immediately stood and opened his mouth to force out what was going to be a very well-rehearsed apology, but Stiles held up a finger to silence him and looked around the seemingly deserted suite with a smirk. Derek knew what he was looking for and his heart sank into his stomach when Stiles found it because his face broke out in a wide grin that Derek knew wasn’t going to last for long.

“They’re really gone?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “Scott and Boyd are both gone? For the entire weekend? We have the dorm to ourselves?”

“Yes,” Derek said, trying to ignore the sparkle in Stiles’ eyes, the sheer excitement that he was exuding. “But—” Before he could say anything else, Stiles dropped his bag to the floor and lunged across the room, pressing his lips to Derek’s. It was nothing more than a quick peck, a promise of what was to come, but it was wrong for so many reasons and Stiles still didn’t _know_. “Stiles, listen…” Derek started again.

“Dude,” Stiles chuckled, ignoring Derek completely and pulling away to grab a bottle of water out of their refrigerator. “You have no idea what my week has been like. Harris assigned us a group project from hell and I am this close to murdering Greenberg in his sleep—not even kidding—so I vote that the sexathon start now. Maybe a quickie in the shower and then I’ll order pizza?” He turned to Derek with a mischievous grin and took a long swig of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with every swallow. It was distracting enough to make Derek forget what he was supposed to be saying. Between the sight of Stiles’ lips wrapped around that bottle and the thought of what he would look like standing under the warm spray of Derek’s shower, all other thoughts had been pushed far to the back of his mind. “You okay there?” Stiles smirked, his eyes running up and down Derek’s body and then over his shoulder. “Are you watching _Titanic_?” he snorted.

And there it was. 

“I tried to text you,” Derek replied, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“I forgot my phone when I went to lab,” Stiles said, his smile waning. “Derek, why are you watching _Titanic_?” His easy smile had been replaced with a frown and his eyes were imploring Derek not to say what they both knew he was going to say next.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, begging him to understand. 

Stiles’ usually open face closed off but rather than yell, he glared at Derek and refused to break eye contact. “Why are you watching _Titanic_ , Derek?” he repeated, his voice hard and cold. It was disconcerting because in the seven months that they had been living together, Derek had never once seen him angry. 

Derek didn’t know what to say to make things better, didn’t want to say any of it aloud because then it would be real, but Stiles was asking for an explanation and Derek owed him that. “I’m sorry. I—” His bedroom door creaked open from down the hall and the two of them paused their conversation out of habit. They could never speak freely, not even in their own dorm room.

“I am _so_ sorry,” a voice said, walking towards them. “But you know my mom—she never shuts up. Oh! Hey, Stiles.” Derek’s face flamed as Jennifer finally joined them in the kitchen, her cellphone clutched loosely in her hand. Stiles visibly flinched. As if her mere presence wasn’t enough to make this the worst situation possible, it didn’t help that she seemed to have dressed up for the occasion. Why, Derek couldn’t fathom, but she was wearing a low-cut tank top and it was very distracting (and quite frankly a little insensitive) because Derek knew she was only doing it for the attention. She always seemed to like it when he begged, would let him get close—cock hard and pounding, delirious from his need for release—and then she would push him away, pointing to the purity ring on her finger. She would always smirk after that when he would excuse himself to the bathroom, like she was enjoying his pain.

“Jenn,” Stiles grimaced, nodding his head in greeting. “I thought you were going home for the weekend.” _Derek told me you were going home for the weekend._

“I was,” she shrugged. “But then he said you guys were going to be out of town too and I didn’t want to leave him alone.” Jennifer turned to Derek with a question on her face, clearly asking whether she had heard him wrong. He felt his cheeks brighten as he fumbled through his thoughts, searching for something halfway coherent to say. It was Stiles who finally took pity on him.

“My dad picked up an extra shift this weekend,” he said with a massive eye roll. “Figured there was no point in going home if I wouldn’t be able to see him.”

“Hm,” Jennifer said, nodding, and then the three of them fell into silence. If it were possible to die of embarrassment, Derek would be very, very dead.

“Well, this has been sufficiently awkward,” Stiles said eventually, turning around to scoop his backpack off of the floor. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He stood, backpack thrown over his shoulder, and gave Derek one last withering stare before walking away with his jaw clenched tight.

“You’re welcome to watch the movie with us,” Jennifer added belatedly, but her tone clearly indicated that she would rather him not. Stiles looked from her to Derek, the bitterness never leaving his eyes. 

“I’ll pass.” Without another word, he took off in the opposite direction from where Jennifer had come from, heading towards the side of the suite that he shared with Scott. Derek watched him go feeling physically nauseous and then, as if drawn to Stiles like a magnet, he followed him down the short hallway. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, walking along behind him. He didn’t know what he wanted to say—what he _could_ say with Jennifer standing fifteen feet away—but he needed Stiles to know that he _wanted_ to say it.

Stiles wrenched his bedroom door open and turned around long enough to hiss, “Go to hell, Derek,” before slamming the door in his face. Derek just stood there in front of Stiles’ “No Girls Allowed” sign, replaying the raging storm that had been building in his eyes.

“Derek!” Jennifer called from the common area. “Come on! There’s still like three hours left.” Derek tore his gaze away from the closed door in front of him, seeing only lost opportunity, and did as he was told. He settled next to Jennifer on the couch, planning to let her have her own side, but she sidled over to him as soon as he sat down. It was hard to admit, but he took comfort in the fact that she was there and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, just the way she liked. He felt dirty as he pulled her close, reveled in her warmth, and tried to convince himself that she was someone else.

*

The first time took Derek completely by surprise. Him and Stiles had been alone in the dorm on a Wednesday night in November, which wasn’t actually unusual. Scott and Boyd had both pledged a fraternity and if they weren’t in class, they were required to be at the house. 

Stiles and he weren’t exactly friends. To be fair, they hadn't started out on the best of terms. In fact, they'd started out on pretty horrible terms seeing as how Stiles had crashed his Jeep straight into Derek's parked Camaro on move-in day. He'd been very apologetic—probably overly so—going on about how he really needed new brake pads, but his dad had finally shut his son up and traded information, asking if they could not involve insurance since it was nearly impossible to get coverage for Stiles’ piece-of-crap car anyways. 

It was a very uncomfortable reunion when they walked into the same dorm room five minutes later. It was a large suite though, consisting of four separate bedrooms, and that kept Derek from hating Stiles outright. Any residual tension was diffused by Scott and Boyd and after a few weeks, move-in day had almost been forgotten. Plus, Derek found that it was really hard to be mad at Stiles. Annoyed, sure, but not mad. 

So three months down the road found them alone together and yes, a little drunk. They still weren't exactly friends but they weren't exactly "not friends" either and that ambiguity was probably one of the main reasons for what happened next. 

They were lounging in Stiles’ room, both trying to squeeze onto his university-issued extra long twin bed. It was difficult, but not impossible. Stiles was sitting, leaning against the back wall, and Derek was lying down, propped up on an elbow, looking at him. 

“She just drives me crazy, you know?” Derek asked for what must have been the fifth time. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Then break up with her.” Derek thought about it, but the very thought made him feel empty.

“No,” he sighed, rolling over so that he was on his back. “I don’t want to break up with her. “ 

Stiles chuckled. “Well good luck with that, man.” An eerily comfortable silence fell between them and Derek couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so relaxed around the hyperactive kid who stole his milk and blared music at all hours of the day and night. 

Derek grabbed Stiles’ pillow from under his head and smothered himself in it so that he could scream his frustration to the world. “Stop that,” Stiles laughed, pulling the pillow away from him and placing it in his own lap. “Come on, Derek. Is your life really that bad? At least you have someone. Someone who loves you. I, on the other hand, am going to be a virgin until I graduate.” Derek’s outlook on his sex life got, if possible, even bleaker.

“Even if that _were_ true, you’d still beat me.” Stiles flailed massively, nearly knocking them both off of the bed.

“I’m sorry—what did you say?” 

Derek shrugged. “Jennifer’s not getting married until she’s done with school and she’s planning on getting a doctorate, so…”

“So you’re a virgin?!” Stiles practically yelled, his face lighting up with glee. Derek wanted to punch him.

“Shut up,” he said reflexively, sitting up so that he wasn’t forced to look up at Stiles. “You are too!”

“That’s not what I—” Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s arm to stop him from climbing off of the bed. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. Stay.” Warily, Derek stopped fighting him and leaned back against the wall so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Three years,” Derek sighed. Stiles whistled under his breath. 

“You must really love her.” Derek did love her—or at least he thought he did—but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge Stiles’ question. Instead, he shrugged.

“She drives me crazy,” he repeated, and then more quietly, “Absolutely crazy.” He should have left it at that, called it a night, headed to his own room and gone to sleep. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why he said what he said next. He hadn’t been thinking it, at least not consciously, but the next thing he knew, the words were coming out of his mouth and suddenly everything didn’t seem so simple anymore. “Sometimes I just want to get it out of my system, you know? Find someone willing and just fuck them.” Stiles turned to him in surprise, clearly startled by the vehemence in his words. The look on his face made Derek backtrack. “I mean, I don’t actually want to be with anyone else. All I want is Jennifer, but she’s not exactly…the waiting’s just hard, is all.” He paused and then continued to make absolutely sure that he had made his point. “I don’t want to cheat on Jennifer. I don’t even think I could. She’s really the only girl I’ve ever found attractive.” He had the sense to shut up after that and tried to hide the blush that was creeping into his cheeks.

“How straight are you exactly?” Stiles asked. His tone wasn’t demeaning or judgmental, just curious, and that calmed Derek a bit.

“I’m straight,” he shrugged, cringing slightly when it came out sounding like a question.

“Yeah,” Stiles chuckled. “Are you sure?” His hand drifted to Derek’s thigh and that was all it took to get his blood flowing south. Derek turned to him, frankly stunned at the initiative, and Stiles met his gaze with a quirk of his lips, looking embarrassed for the first time all night. “Tell me to stop and I will.” Derek knew he should, but he didn’t. Slowly, he shook his head.

The next thing he knew, Stiles had removed his hand and was climbing onto Derek’s lap, straddling his hips and running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he repeated. His words were accompanied by a roll of his hips that sent a shock through Derek’s body. He threw his head back against the wall and grabbed on to Stiles’ hips as he did it again. His eyes drifted shut, blocking out everything but Stiles’ body writhing against him and the warm feel of his breath against Derek’s neck. When his lips connected with the sensitive skin under Derek’s ear, Derek let out a sound that he had never heard himself make before. “You don’t even have to do anything,” Stiles breathed into his ear, his voice catching several times. “Just sit there. Let me do all the work.”

Stiles kissed his way up Derek’s neck, applying suction in just the right places, all while continuing the rhythmic movements of his hips and it was too much. Too much and not enough at the same time because Derek couldn’t remember the last time he had done this with Jennifer. Definitely not since high school and never in a bed. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening—what he _wanted_ to happen—but he did know that he didn’t want to be a passive participant in whatever it was.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed Stiles’ face in his hands and pulled him away from his neck. Stiles was flushed bright red, lips swollen, his whole body practically vibrating beneath Derek’s touch. He look worried, like Derek might tell him to stop, but Derek didn’t think he would have been able to push him away even if that was what he wanted. Instead, he leaned forward the few inches separating them and kissed him firm on the mouth. The only other person he had ever kissed was Jennifer, but he didn’t have time to feel guilty because then Stiles let out a small whine at the back of his throat and it sounded so sweet and innocent that Derek just melted. 

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and maneuvered him off of his lap so that they were lying on the bed, Derek blanketing him with every inch of his body. They never broke the kiss, but licked into each other’s mouths hungrily, like they weren’t going to get another chance. They stayed that way for a long time with limbs wrapped together, tongues and teeth working frantically, until Derek started to feel light-headed. He knew that he should stop things before they went too far, but he was scared of what would happen if he did. Plus, he really, _really_ didn’t want to.

Stiles was the one who eventually pulled away and for a second Derek thought that was it. That they were going to stop, call it a mistake, and forget that it ever happened, but then Stiles was grabbing at Derek’s T-shirt, trying to get it off of him, and it took Derek an embarrassingly long time to figure out what that meant.

“Oh,” he said as Stiles whined his frustration and then pulled his own shirt off with one easy tug. Stiles smiled his appreciation and kissed Derek once on the mouth before moving down to place kisses all over his chest. It was only then, as Stiles changed the angle, that Derek realized he was rutting into his hip shamelessly. 

God, he was so hard and his jeans were way past the point of being comfortable. They were digging into his skin tightly and all he wanted was to get them off, but he still wasn’t completely sure what they were doing and removing his pants was probably not the best way to find out. 

Stiles, however, didn’t seem to have any qualms with removing Derek’s pants and almost as if he were reading Derek’s mind, he reached up and unbuttoned them, pulling the zipper open nice and slow before grabbing the front of Derek’s jeans and fondling him above his clothes. Derek gave a breathy moan of surprise and Stiles took advantage of his weakened state to flip them so that he was straddling Derek on the bed once more.

“I’m going to take these off now,” he warned, tugging lightly on Derek’s jeans. Derek nodded, seriously doubting his ability to form actual words. He lifted his hips and Stiles pulled the rest of his clothes off and threw them to the ground. Then, for the first time in his life, Derek was lying naked and aroused in front of another person. Stiles didn’t give him time to enjoy the moment before he was moving back in and licking a path up the hair that ran from Derek’s groin to his belly button. The sensation had Derek’s muscles jumping in anticipation and he nearly came right then, his cock twitching threateningly. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered, biting his lip hard to try to feel anything besides Stiles. He pushed the boy away to calm himself. This was going to be over fast and he was _not_ going to come until Stiles was at least as naked as he was. “Off,” he said, pointing to Stiles’ clothes and he seemed to get the message because he sat back on the bed and fumbled out of his layered shirts before pulling both his jeans and his underwear off and tossing them to the ground. When he climbed back on top of Derek, he was completely naked, his cock red and already wet with precome. The sight of him was intoxicating. It wasn’t that he was attractive—although he most definitely was—what took Derek’s breath away was how much Stiles _wanted_ this. How his pupils were blown and his breath was labored and how the only thing Stiles was focused on in that moment was Derek. 

And he, unlike Jennifer, didn’t want to stop.

Derek dived back in for a kiss and pulled Stiles closer until there was no space between their bodies. He grabbed Stiles’ ass to pull him as close as possible and the feel of their cocks pressed tightly together had them both moaning, rocking against each other, desperately seeking some relief. Acting under the assumption that the closer Stiles was to him, the better he felt, Derek reached between them and grabbed both of their cocks in his hands. Stiles cried out at the feeling, collapsing onto his elbows, and buried his face in Derek’s neck as he began to thrust in and out of Derek’s fist. There wasn’t enough lubrication for it to be entirely comfortable, but the friction was good—so good—and asking for lube at that point seemed a little counterproductive.

Every nerve ending in Derek’s body felt like it was on fire and he could feel his orgasm building as the two of them rocked together, making sounds that shook Derek to his very core. Stiles came with a whimper less than a minute later, his breath hot against Derek’s neck, and Derek followed right behind him, coating them both in come.

It should have been awkward then, as the haze of lust left them, but Derek really didn’t mind the fact that Stiles was collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily. He didn’t care that he was naked in his roommate’s bed, coming down from the best orgasm he had ever had. He didn’t even care that he had just lost his virginity to someone who wasn’t Jennifer. 

In an unexpected surge of affection, Derek kissed Stiles’ neck before rolling over so that he could sit up. Stiles didn’t seem to mind, just stared up at him from his spot on the pillow. “That can’t happen again,” Derek said simply. It wasn’t an accusation or even a statement of regret. It was just a fact. Stiles nodded and then abruptly started laughing. “What?” Derek grinned. Stiles waved his hands as if to say it was nothing, but Derek just rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles playfully.

It happened twice more that night and it never really stopped.

*

Derek liked _Titanic_ the first time he saw it. After about seven re-watches, he didn’t really like it anymore. It hardly mattered though—he definitely wasn’t paying attention. All he could think about was Stiles, alone in his room on a weekend that was supposed to be theirs.

Derek didn’t hear a peep out of him until two hours later when Stiles came barreling out of his room, reeking of cologne. Without a word, the boy skidded to a halt in front of the freezer and grabbed the contraband bottle of whiskey that they kept there for “emergencies”. 

“Where are you going?” Derek asked worriedly. Jennifer sat up far enough to see what the commotion was about, but Stiles didn’t seem bothered by her presence. 

“To get laid,” he shrugged, opening the bottle and taking a huge swig that had Derek wincing. “Don’t wait up.” He was out of the door before Derek could protest or point out that if anyone saw him with a bottle of alcohol, he’d be kicked out of the dorms. 

Jennifer chuckled lightly and turned back to her movie; Derek felt like he was going to throw up.

The minutes ticked by and all he could think about was someone else touching Stiles. Someone else leaving marks on his skin. Someone else hearing the sounds he makes when he comes. Someone else knowing what it feels like to have Stiles inside of them, filling them so full that there’s no room left, even for breathing. 

So, yeah, Derek was jealous. And he _knew_ it was selfish and hypocritical, but he didn’t want Stiles having sex with anyone else. Derek certainly wasn’t.

_You would though_ , a voice at the back of his mind prodded. _If Jennifer offered, you would_. So Derek bit his tongue and kept quiet. 

Was this what Stiles felt like all the time? Was he jealous of Jennifer? They’d been very clear when the whole thing started that it was just sex and nothing else, but if it was just sex, then why was Derek literally about to go out of his mind thinking about what Stiles might be doing.

The first text came less than an hour later, just as the movie was winding down. Jennifer’s insistence on dinner had turned an already grueling three and a half hour movie into an almost five hour affair. The distraction was welcome.

His first thought when he felt his phone vibrate was that it was probably Boyd—aside from Jennifer, he was the only one Derek texted with any regularity—but when he managed to fish his phone out of his pocket, it most definitely wasn’t Boyd on the other end because there, on the lock screen, was a picture of Stiles’ penis. Derek nearly dropped his phone in surprise. 

Thankfully, Jennifer had relocated to the other side of the couch right around the time the ship started to sink and she was curled up on the arm, obliviously staring at the melodrama on the TV screen. Derek knew he shouldn’t press his luck, but his curiosity got the best of him. He unlocked his phone, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, so that he could get a better glimpse of the image Stiles had sent him.

And yep, that was definitely Stiles’ penis, even if all Derek could see of it was the head peeking out above the waistband of his blue plaid boxers. Stiles was hard, a drop of precome threatening to fall from his slit, and more than anything, Derek just wanted to know where he was. The picture didn’t give anything away, although Derek assumed he must be on a bed because those looked like sheets, right? Was Stiles masturbating alone on someone else’s bed? Maybe he wasn’t alone at all…

_Where are you?!_ Derek texted. He didn’t get a response for several minutes—several minutes during which Derek managed to work himself into a panic—and even then, it was only another picture. Stiles was completely naked this time, his boxers lying forgotten on the bed next to him, and he had a hand wrapped around the base of his fully erect cock. Derek let out a whimper that he quickly turned into a cough. Jennifer didn’t seem to notice the interruption. 

_Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you_ , Derek replied and then quickly followed it up with, _Please_. 

_Is Jennifer still there?_ Stiles texted back almost instantaneously. Derek clamped his eyes closed in frustration. 

_I’ll tell her to leave. Where are you?_ Once again, Derek had to wait for a reply and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was because Stiles was mad at his response or if he was jacking himself off. 

_You’d like that wouldn’t you? To come here and finish me off? Have both of us in the same night?_ Derek rolled his eyes and locked his phone. Stiles was drunk. Maybe not as drunk as Derek expected him to be since his texts were extremely coherent, but he was drunk nonetheless and this probably wasn’t a conversation they should have with Jennifer sitting just a few feet away.

_You really should have chosen me tonight_ , Stiles continued. Derek tried to ignore it, thought about turning his phone off, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it before the next text came through. _Want to know why?_

The sad thing was that Derek did want to know—was dying to know actually. Stiles had been hinting for weeks that he was planning to blow Derek’s mind (amongst other things) and the thought that he might not ever get to know what Stiles had planned…To his surprise, Derek lasted a full 90 seconds before replying. 

_Yes_ , he sent back begrudgingly. The response came quickly.

_I was going to open you up and eat you out until you were screaming my name. I wanted to see if I could get you to come untouched. Would you like that baby? Would you like my tongue inside of you?_

Derek’s cock sprung to life as he read Stiles’ words and he tried as covertly as possible to cover himself with one of the couch’s pillows. Jennifer looked over as he moved, but just gave him a small smile and turned back to the movie.

_Yes_ , Derek replied and hated himself just a little bit for it.

_Good._ There was a pause before he continued. _Then I was going to ride you. Hard. Show you what it feels like to have someone want you the way you deserve._ Derek shifted slightly to try and get some friction against his throbbing cock. He knew he shouldn’t because the possibility of him coming in his pants was a real thing, but he was wound so tightly—had waited for this night for so long and if this was the only way he was going to get any enjoyment out of it, then he was going to take it.

_But you don’t really like doing it that way do you?_ Stiles continued. _Reminds you too much of her._ They’d never really talked about preferences but it was true that, given the choice, Derek preferred for Stiles to fuck him. And maybe he was right about the reason too. It was easier when Stiles was inside of him to forget that what they were doing was wrong because Jennifer couldn’t give him what Stiles could. He wasn’t taking anything away from her. 

_So tell me, Derek. What do you want?_

Derek wanted to come. Badly. And he couldn’t do that with Jennifer in the room. _Hold on_ , he texted Stiles. _DON’T COME WITHOUT ME._

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Derek said, ignoring the break in his voice as he stood. “Be right back.” He didn’t even wait for a response, just took off down the hall.

“Seriously?” he heard Jennifer mumble. “This is the best part.”

Derek practically ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind him as he dialed Stiles’ number with one hand and pulled his pants down with the other. Stiles picked up on the second ring.

“I want you inside of me,” Derek hissed as soon as the call connected. “Only me.” With his pants around his ankles, Derek was finally able to get a firm grip on his cock. He spread his precome down the length and began to work himself quickly, knowing that he was both pressed for time and not going to last long anyway.

“Jealous much?” Stiles huffed breathlessly. Derek could hear the slap of skin-on-skin and the thought of Stiles getting off to the sound of his voice nearly pushed him over the edge right then. “God, I want you so bad. I want you on your knees in front of me, Derek, with your ass in the air. Would you do that for me?” Derek whined and picked up his pace. “Then I would thrust all the way into you and make you mine. Just mine. All mine.” That’s all it took for Derek to find release—just the thought of Stiles, hot and heavy against his back, pounding into him relentlessly. Derek let out a strangled moan as he came and collapsed to the ground.

“You like that?” Stiles asked, his voice climbing higher. “Did you come for me, Derek?” 

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek sighed, needing him to know that he’d at least been able to give him that. “I came for you. Only for you.” All Derek heard through the phone line was the sound of heavy breathing and it was hypnotic really, the sound of Stiles’ arousal. “That’s right,” Derek urged, his heart starting to race for an entirely different reason now that he was coming down from his orgasm. It was intimate somehow, talking Stiles through this. Intimate in a way that Derek had never really paid attention to before. “Come on, Stiles. I’m right here with you. God, I wish I could see you. You’re beautiful, you know? You’re always so damn beautiful.” Stiles came with what sounded like a sob and Derek smiled into the phone. “There you go.” 

There was a long space of time when the two of them just sat there, breathing into their phones but then abruptly, Stiles hung up. Derek couldn’t blame him really. With a sigh, he stood and pulled his pants back on, guilt starting to creep into his skin. God, Jennifer was _right there._ What was he playing at? But then again, masturbating in bathrooms when Jennifer was just a few feet away wasn’t exactly a new practice for him. He unlocked the door and grabbed his phone, surprised to find that Stiles had sent him another message. He opened it with a smirk to find another picture. Stiles was naked and lying on that same bed, his body flushed red and his stomach covered in white cords of come. The caption read, _Look what you do to me_. Derek pocketed the phone with a smile and returned to Jennifer.

Thankfully, the movie was over, but Jennifer seemed really annoyed that he had managed to miss the ending. He did the best that he could to cover his tracks, letting her know that he wasn’t feeling good and that they should probably call it a night. She reluctantly agreed.

“Love you,” she smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek as she opened the door. Derek returned the smile, but he couldn’t return the words.

Derek lay in his bed later that night, waiting for Stiles to come home. It was after midnight when he heard the door to their suite open. His plan was to give Stiles space, let them both sleep on it and they could talk in the morning, but Stiles seemed to have something else in mind. Derek listened as his footsteps carried him right to Derek’s bedroom door. Derek sat up in bed, frankly stunned that Stiles would want anything to do with him, and watched as his door slowly creaked open. Stiles saw him sitting there and rolled his eyes. “Scoot over,” he said and Derek did. Stiles pulled off his jeans and crawled into bed with some difficulty, pulling Derek down beside him so that he could rest his head on Derek’s chest. They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, and the irony was not lost on Derek that simply falling asleep next to Stiles almost made the rest of the night worth it.

*

When Derek woke up the next morning, sunlight was streaming brightly through his bedroom window and Stiles was awake, propped up on his elbow staring down at him. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles held a finger to his lips, telling Derek to be quiet, and then pointed to the door before plopping down on the sheets next to him. There were voices coming from the common area—two of them—and after only a few seconds, Derek was able to recognize them as Boyd and his girlfriend Erica. Derek groaned quietly and rolled his eyes. 

He had _begged_ Boyd to stay away this weekend and when that hadn’t worked, he’d bribed him with unlimited access to his campus meal plan. This was not what he paid for, damn it! But then again, Boyd could really be charging a much higher price than free meals at the cafeteria because Derek had a feeling that he knew a lot more than Derek had ever told him. And if Boyd knew what Derek thought that he knew, then he also probably assumed that Derek and Stiles’ plans had been called off when Jennifer decided to stay in town. 

“They just walked in,” Stiles whispered. “I think he’s just changing clothes and they’re going to go get breakfast.” Derek nodded, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. This wasn’t happening.

The two of them lay in bed, listening to the voices in the living room and not touching each other more than they had to. Derek didn’t know where they stood after the night before—didn’t even know how much Stiles remembered from the night before. He had half a mind to ask, but when he opened his mouth, that’s not what came out. “Are you mad at me?” Stiles rolled his eyes and turned to Derek with an expression that said, quite eloquently, “duh.” 

“Of course I’m fucking mad at you, asshole,” he said quietly, but Derek didn’t miss the slight hint of fondness in his voice. 

“Yeah?” he teased, rolling over so that he was above Stiles, propped up on his elbow. Stiles rolled his eyes, but didn’t make any move to push him away.

“If you actually think I’m going to expend any effort to get you off after what you did—”

“Just lay there,” Derek said, kissing his neck. “Let me do all the work.” 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Stiles huffed, but he slipped his hands underneath Derek’s T-shirt and began tracing patterns on his hips, so Derek took that as permission to continue. They were both already hard—Derek could feel Stiles’ erection quite clearly through the thin fabric of his boxers—so he didn’t bother wasting any time with foreplay. Instead, he pulled Stiles’ boxers off with one quick tug and swallowed him down.

“Holy crap, Derek,” Stiles startled, sitting up on his elbows. “Boyd is _right there_.” Derek hadn’t forgotten. He could still hear Boyd and Erica talking in the kitchen, but they would be gone soon and Derek wasn’t going to let them ruin his morning. He continued his ministrations unabashedly, flicking his tongue over Stiles’ slit until the boy finally gave in and collapsed back onto the bed. “Fuck you,” he muttered, but he sounded pretty blissed out so Derek wasn’t complaining. 

He continued going down on Stiles for several minutes, watching in amusement as the boy tried to muffle his sounds in the crook of his elbow. “Is this a—f-fuck, Derek—apology blow job?” he asked. “Because you’re going to have to do more than b-blow me if you want me to forgive you.” 

Derek pulled off of him with a pop. “I figured,” he smirked. “Lube?” Just as he’d expected, Stiles was too far gone to argue. He reached behind him and grabbed the bottle of lube from Derek’s bedside table. Derek took it from him and then pulled away, stripping himself of his clothes as he did so. Stiles whined a little at the loss of contact, but took advantage of the space to take his own shirt off and it boosted Derek’s confidence just enough to do what he was planning on doing next.

He coated the fingers of his right hand with the lube and then dived back down to take Stiles into his mouth once more. Stiles moaned and jerked instinctually closer, so Derek held him down the best that he could with his left arm and then reached behind him to start opening himself up. He’d never fingered himself before, but he’d watched Stiles do it enough times that he thought he could figure it out. He was already two fingers deep when Stiles realized what he was doing.

“Holy fuck, Derek,” he hissed. “Are you—? Shit, you are.” Derek continued to spread himself, scissoring two fingers back and forth inside of him. “God, you’re beautiful. Come here.” Derek whined and did as Stiles asked, climbing farther up on the bed so that he could bury his face in Stiles’ neck. Stiles rubbed his back in reassurance and then reached lower, pressing on Derek’s rim gently before squeezing a finger in next to Derek’s own. 

“Fuck,” they said simultaneously and then began rocking together on the bed. 

“You aren’t supposed to be helping,” Derek pointed out.

“Fuck that,” Stiles replied breathlessly. 

That, of course, was when a knock sounded at the door. Both of them stilled, but they didn’t bother moving to a less compromising position. Stiles looked up at Derek, his eyes wide, and there was nothing Derek could do aside from flash that exact same look back at him. The door wasn’t locked—they both knew it—and if whoever was at the door chose to open it, boy were they going to get an eye full. 

There was another knock, this one more hesitant. The two boys waited with bated breath, but the door never opened.

“Is he still asleep?” Derek heard Erica ask, making her way closer. 

“Must be,” Boyd said from right outside the door. 

“I could just check,” Erica said and Derek heard the doorknob turn from across the room.

“Trust me,” Boyd said, stopping her. “You don’t want to do that.” Then, “Come on. I’ve got a copy of his meal card. Breakfast is on Derek.” He practically yelled the last part, as if he _wanted_ Derek to hear what he was saying, and Erica scoffed. Their footsteps retreated down the hallway and Derek and Stiles were finally able to disentangle themselves into a more comfortable position. They listened as the front door opened and then shut and both of them let out a sigh of relief.

“Does he know?” Stiles asked, leaning up to suck a bruise onto Derek’s neck. 

Derek shrugged. “Don’t know.” Stiles nodded and pulled Derek closer to him until they were rutting into each other once more, both of them back to being fully erect. Derek crawled on top of Stiles and straddled his hips, aligning Stiles’ cock with his entrance and sinking down with a moan that Stiles returned enthusiastically. It was rare that they could be as loud as they wanted and Derek was planning on taking advantage of it.

He rolled his hips slowly at first, reaching out to lace his fingers through Stiles’, but eventually the slow pace became too torturous to maintain. Stiles was whimpering beneath him, rocking forward to meet him thrust for thrust, and there was a red flush on his skin that was crawling higher by the second. Derek found the sight hypnotizing. “Fuck, Derek,” he cried as Derek picked up his pace, lifting himself up and then slamming down on Stiles’ cock until all he could feel was the burn in his muscles and the warmth of Stiles inside of him. Derek’s breath was coming out in ragged pants and he was getting tired, but he could tell that Stiles was close. His head was thrown back into Derek’s pillow and he was squeezing Derek’s hands tightly, looking for something to anchor him. “Mm, I’m going to come—let me—” He tried to wrench his hand out of Derek’s, but Derek wouldn’t let him and Stiles just whined louder. “Let me get you off,” he cried breathlessly.

“You first,” Derek insisted and with just a few more thrusts, Stiles came with a shout. The sight of Stiles writhing beneath him and the thought of being filled with his come had Derek following shortly after him, their fingers still tightly interlaced. He collapsed onto the smaller boy out of sheer exhaustion and only when Stiles had separated them and molded Derek to his side did he realize that he was saying Stiles name, over and over again, like a prayer. 

Stiles reached for the Kleenex and cleaned them both up and then they were just lying there, neither saying a word, basking in the afterglow. Stiles was running his fingers through Derek's hair and Derek was breathing every inch of him in and it was perfect, like coming home.

Until it wasn't.

"Jennifer took off her purity ring three weeks ago," Stiles said. There was no inflection to his voice at all, so Derek tilted his head to try and see if he was joking.

"No she didn't. She—"

"She did," Stiles interrupted and this time there was a slight bite to his voice, like he would rather not be talking about it. "I heard her and Erica talking at the frat party last week." Derek shook his head because no, that wasn't right. He would have noticed. 

"Well even if that _is_ true, I haven't slept with her. I don't see how this is—"

"It's relevant because it is, Derek!" Stiles yelled, sitting up in bed and dislodging Derek unceremoniously from his shoulder. "When she offers herself to you, you're going to say yes and then where am I?"

"Stiles," Derek sighed, sitting up next to him. "I've known Jennifer a lot longer than you. I don't know why she took that ring off, but it has nothing to do with me. If she wanted to have sex with me, she's had plenty of opportunities."

"Has she?" He scoffed. "Because apparently Little Derek hasn't come out to play for a while, which is really ironic let me tell you, because Little Derek seems to like me just fine." Derek felt himself blush darkly. It was true that him and Jennifer hadn’t found themselves in any particularly arousing situations recently, but she’d never complained about it and honestly, avoiding physical intimacy with her was easier than the alternative. He always felt guilty for wanting what Jennifer didn’t want to give him, like he was a bad person for wanting to be with her.

"Derek," Stiles continued with a sigh. "I like Jennifer. But she _loves_ you—like sun and stars kind of love—and I can't do this anymore." Derek’s blood ran cold.

“If this is about last night, I—” 

“It’s not about last night,” Stiles interjected, reaching out to put his hand on Derek’s arm, comforting him even though Derek didn’t really feel like he deserved it. “Look, I’m the one who broke the rules okay? You did nothing wrong.” Derek looked to him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Rules?”

Stiles sighed. “This was supposed to be just sex. It isn’t just sex for me anymore, Derek.” Before Derek could even wrap his mind around those words, Stiles had squeezed his arm reassuringly and crawled out of bed to put his clothes from the night before back on.

“Stiles, I…” Derek felt like he should say something—anything—but no sound came out. What _could_ he say? This thing with Stiles had never been about feelings; it had been about getting off. Stiles was just the guy he went to when he needed a blowjob after his history exams. Or when he needed advice about Jennifer. Or when he’d just had a really long day and needed someone to talk to. Or sit with. Stiles was the first person he went to when anything good happened to him—and holy crap, that really didn’t sound like the definition of “just sex.”

Stiles looked at him expectantly, but Derek’s realization only choked him up more. He could tell Stiles, sure, but that wouldn’t fix anything because Derek wouldn’t break up with Jennifer—he knew he wouldn’t. Stiles smiled at him sadly. “We still friends, dude?” Derek nodded, because he thought that was about all he could muster without completely losing his shit, and then Stiles leaned in and kissed him one last time. It was lingering and sweet and shattered Derek’s world into a million tiny pieces.

*

In the weeks that followed, Derek was left to process all of the guilt that he had managed to bury beneath a shit ton of sex. It wasn’t that he hadn’t felt guilty before; it was just that now he had nothing to distract him from the fact that he was truly a jackass. He’d always tried to rationalize that sleeping with Stiles—while morally questionable, yes—was not really _hurting_ Jennifer and if he was being honest, it had actually made him want to break up with her less. Stiles gave him what she couldn’t and between the two of them, Derek was _happy_. 

All of that changed when he sat down to eat lunch with her on Monday and actually listened to what she was saying for the first time in weeks. Jennifer just kept talking, like she wasn’t even expecting him to respond, and when he did, she looked so shocked that Derek didn’t doubt for a minute that he had put her through hell these past few months. They talked—really talked—and it was like she was waking up from a bad dream. She couldn’t stop smiling and it tore Derek to pieces that he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her smile like that. She wasn’t wearing her purity ring. Derek didn’t ask her about it. He didn’t want to know. 

As for things with Stiles, they started out awkward and then got worse. At first it was just polite greetings in the dorm and a few group outings that Scott and Boyd dragged them to, but it quickly escalated to Derek never seeing Stiles at all. He assumed Stiles was avoiding him, although the effort that must take was actually quite impressive. Derek tried to make it as easy as possible; he spent as much time at Jennifer’s as she would allow. Apparently, the whole “friends” thing was not something that was going to happen any time soon. Derek understood though. It was hard seeing Stiles and not being able to jump his bones.

Unsurprisingly, their strange behavior did not go unnoticed. It was almost a month later, on a Friday in late April, that Boyd called him out on it.

“So,” he said, never looking away from the baseball game that they were watching. “You and Stiles…” 

Even though they were alone in the dorm, Derek felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “Nope,” he replied immediately. “We are _not_ talking about it.” Boyd raised a highly judgmental eyebrow at him, but didn’t press the subject.

“Fine,” Boyd sighed. “But whatever it is, you’re not dealing.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but belatedly realized that he couldn’t—not without giving anything away. “So we’re going out tonight.”

“No,” Derek groaned. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You need to get drunk,” Boyd countered. “And Erica and Jennifer are going to see a movie, so it’s perfect.” Derek couldn’t argue that getting drunk with Boyd did sound perfect. The two of them had been friends since they were little kids and even though Derek knew he could never put Boyd in the position of keeping his secrets, it _would_ be nice to just relax with him for one night. To forget Jennifer and Stiles and everything that wasn’t the buzz of alcohol in his blood.

“Stiles might be there,” he hedged and it was true. Stiles hung out at Boyd and Scott’s fraternity a lot more than Derek did. Derek hadn’t been there at all since the two of them ended things. 

“Scott’s out of town,” Boyd said confidently. “Stiles _won’t_ be there.” 

And that’s how, two hours later, Derek found himself leaning against a wall at the frat house, watching Stiles flirt with one of the most objectively attractive guys that Derek had ever seen. He didn’t think Stiles had seen him come in and Derek had purposefully avoided him until he was decidedly not sober, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Stiles was laughing like Derek hadn’t seen him laugh in a month and that alone would have been enough to make him jealous, even if the other boy _hadn’t_ been looking at Stiles like he was something to be devoured. 

The other boy’s name was Danny, Derek was almost positive, and he was a year older than them. He’d come by the dorm a few times, looking for either Scott or Stiles. They went to high school together and although Danny had seemed nice enough the one time they’d been introduced, now Derek wasn’t so sure. 

Boyd was standing next to him, conversing with a few of the brothers and throwing increasingly worried glances in Derek’s direction, but Derek was beyond caring.

“Seriously, dude, calm down,” Boyd said once his friends had wandered off. “There is nothing going on between Stiles and Danny—I promise you.” Derek scoffed, because what did Boyd know anyway? “And you’re being creepy as fuck, so stop it.” Derek reluctantly turned away from Stiles and rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one who dragged me here and got me drunk,” he accused. 

“You got yourself drunk,” Boyd corrected. “Don’t put that on me. Whatever stupid decisions you make tonight are all on you, buddy.” 

“ _I_ was perfectly content spending the night watching baseball and _Game of Thrones_ ,” Derek hissed in reply. “And I wouldn’t be this drunk if Stiles wasn’t currently macking on some fucking Adonis in the corner!”

“I thought we weren’t talking about Stiles,” Boyd quipped. 

“We aren’t,” Derek agreed adamantly, but the only coherent thoughts he could string together were about Stiles. About how he shouldn’t be hanging all over Danny and how he _should_ be hanging all over Derek instead. 

Boyd looked like he had more he would like to say, but his face was wiped blank as he stared at something over Derek’s shoulder. Derek turned to find Stiles standing not ten feet away from them, a smile on his face as he approached, pulling Danny along behind him.

“Roomies!” he cried, turning to Derek with a smile that warmed his whole body. It was so welcome—like rain after a drought—and more than anything, Derek wanted to reach out, pull Stiles close, and never let him go. The hole in Derek’s heart felt a little less empty with Stiles so close.

“Hey, Stiles,” Boyd greeted when it became obvious that Derek wasn’t going to reply. Derek shook himself out of his stupor and tried to return the smile that Stiles had given him. 

“When did you get here?” Stiles asked and although it was probably a question for both of them, it was directed at Derek.

“Maybe an hour ago,” Derek shrugged. 

“Damn, I wish I’d seen you come in,” Stiles said and then twisted to gesture at Danny, who was still standing beside him. “You know Danny, right?”

Derek pulled his gaze away from Stiles to look at Danny closely for the first time all night. He was smiling, but there was a smug look in his eyes as he appraised Derek, almost like he knew exactly how much Derek was trying not to hate him.

“I think we’ve met,” Derek replied, forcing himself to smile at the boy.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Danny agreed, looking down at Stiles who promptly started blushing.

“He hasn’t,” Stiles quickly amended. “I swear to God he hasn’t.” Boyd started laughing at that and Danny smirked. Surprisingly, Derek found that he didn’t mind Danny knowing one way or another and actually, there was a very large part of Derek that hoped he _did_ know. Derek wanted him to know that Stiles had been his, at least for a little while. 

Stiles chuckled at his own embarrassment and sidled a little closer to Derek. “Hey,” he said, his face still bright red. “Do you maybe wanna—”

“Stiles,” Danny interrupted. “You coming?” Stiles looked very confused for about half a second before brushing him off.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.” Danny raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“Or, you know, now,” he corrected, flashing Stiles a smile that made Derek’s blood boil. Instead of responding, Stiles looked between Danny and Derek and then sighed deeply.

“Yeah, whatever,” he decided unenthusiastically, shuffling closer to Danny as if the boy _hadn’t_ just given him a direct order. He turned back to Derek and Boyd with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking more than a little bit put out. “See you back at the dorm.” Without another word, Danny threw his arm over Stiles’ shoulder and led him away.

Derek watched them leave and he couldn’t help but notice that Stiles didn’t seem too happy with Danny. He was talking to the boy under his breath, his teeth gritted and his muscles tensed, but Danny never removed his arm from Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles never made him. 

“Derek,” Boyd warned as Danny and Stiles reached the stairs. “There’s _nothing_ going on between them.” Derek rolled his eyes because the only thing upstairs was bedrooms. With beds. Stiles and Danny stopped on the upstairs landing and seemed to be arguing about something. Derek couldn’t hear them over the noise from the party, but Stiles seemed angry and he kept gesticulating down the stairs. “Danny has a boyfriend,” Boyd continued. As if that meant anything.

“Yeah, well guess what?” Derek snapped, finally pulling his gaze away from Stiles long enough to glare at his best friend. “I have a girlfriend and that never stopped him.” Boyd startled a little at the vehemence behind Derek’s words, his good-natured smile faltering as he recognized Derek’s outburst for what it truly was: an admission of guilt. 

Derek tore his gaze away from Boyd with some difficulty and turned back to Stiles, looking to satisfy his own morbid curiosity. Stiles’ skin was flushed prettily and he was flat out yelling now, although Derek still couldn’t make out the words. He thought about intervening—climbing the stairs and dragging Stiles back to their dorm so that they could be alone, away from prying eyes—and he might have done it too if Danny hadn’t grabbed Stiles by the ears and pulled him in for a kiss like it was nothing, like it was something he had every right to do. 

The kiss definitely shut Stiles up, although he didn’t exactly return it. His arms flailed dramatically and after a few tense seconds, he seemed to remember that he could push Danny away, so he did.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” Danny gave Stiles an overly exaggerated shrug and then looked down to the foot of the stairs where Derek was standing. He didn’t remember crossing the room or leaving his safe spot on the wall next to Boyd, but he must have drifted closer to Stiles without even realizing it. Danny’s eyes found Derek’s easily and he raised a single eyebrow at him in challenge, as if to say ‘What’re you going to do now?’

There were a lot of things that Derek wanted to do. He wanted to punch Danny. He wanted to kiss Stiles. And he wanted to get the hell away from the frat house as fast as humanly possible. In the end, the idea of escape won out. Derek turned away from Danny’s judgmental gaze and began working his way through the crowd of people.

“Derek!” he heard Stiles shout, his footsteps loud as he galloped down the stairs. “Derek, wait!” Derek didn’t stop. There was no reason to. Stiles wasn’t his anymore, if he ever had been at all, and Derek needed to stop believing that he still was. “Derek, please!” It was the please that did it. Derek felt himself slow down and the next thing he knew, Stiles was skidding to a stop at his elbow.

"That wasn't what it looked like," he said, grabbing Derek's arm to keep him from moving. Derek scoffed because he had no doubt that it was _exactly_ what it looked like. It looked like Danny had kissed Stiles, without his permission, just to show Derek that he could. And that did things to Derek. His heart was racing, his blood was boiling, and he needed Stiles in that moment like he’d never needed another person. He needed to mark him, to claim him, to show the world that Stiles was his and only his until the end of time. Derek also felt a little like crying, but he thought that was probably the tequila shots catching up to him.

"Can we just..." Stiles tried again, looking around the room distractedly. "Come on, let's go upstairs. We'll be able to talk there." He tried to pull Derek towards the steps, but Derek refused to move. 

"Where exactly upstairs are you taking me?"

"Danny's room?" Stiles shrugged. "He won't mind. That's where I was the night I sent you those..." He lowered his voice and then continued in a whisper, "dick pics." Derek just stared at Stiles, waiting for him to realize why Derek might feel uncomfortable talking about their relationship in _Danny's_ room, and thankfully it didn't take long for the epiphany to hit. Stiles’ eyes widened and he began shaking his head frantically. "No, no, no. I swear, Derek, Danny and I are just friends. I have no idea why he kissed me—although it might have something to do with the fact that I drunkenly told him like months ago that I was falling hard for my very not-single roommate. But he doesn't know about us, I swear! And I would _never_ do something like that in front of you. I know how much it sucks." His last words came out a little bitter, but Derek didn't even have the energy to feel bad because they were surrounded by people and this was not a conversation he wanted to have in public.

"Can we...?" Derek asked, gesturing at all of the drunken college students stumbling around. Stiles seemed to understand what he was asking because he grabbed him by the hand and led him down a small hallway and into a surprisingly deserted bathroom, shutting the door behind them. They could still hear the noise from the party, but it was muted.

"Better?" Stiles asked sheepishly, leaning against the sink behind him. Derek nodded and looked around the room. The bathroom was tiny, just a toilet and a sink, and Derek knew that there would probably be a line forming outside within minutes, so whatever he needed to say to Stiles needed to be said fast, but he couldn’t find the words. What did he want, damn it? Why didn’t he know?

“Look,” Stiles sighed after a few tense seconds, “I’m not going to apologize. That wasn’t my fault.” Stiles paused as if he were through talking, but then he barreled on. “And you know what? So what if it _was_ my fault? You have a fucking girlfriend, Derek—a girlfriend that I’m pretty positive you kiss on the reg so—” His cheeks were flushing again, just like they had with Danny, and Derek could tell that he was working his way into a panic, so he did the one thing that he knew would shut him up. He stepped forward and kissed him for the first time in a month. Stiles folded into his touch eagerly, almost as if he had been expecting it, and let out a sigh of relief that echoed Derek’s feelings perfectly. 

The kiss started off slow, easy, and desperate; it was unlike any kiss he’d ever had with Jennifer, even when their relationship was new. He put everything he had into that kiss, trying to show Stiles that kissing him was the highlight of his life. He meant to leave it at that, just a leisurely make out in the bathroom of a frat house, but Stiles had other ideas. He picked up their pace after less than a minute and rocked his hips into Derek’s thigh earnestly. 

“Fuck, Derek,” he moaned, and the sound of his pleasure nearly ripped Derek apart. “Fuck me.” Derek wasn’t quite sure if that was an actual request, so he let Stiles take the reins, pulling the collar of Derek’s shirt down so that he could suck bruises into his clavicle. The feel of teeth against Derek’s skin sent shivers down his spine and he was so close to losing it—just the thrill of being near Stiles again was intoxicating—so he pushed Stiles away so that he could return the favor before their proceedings met a premature end. 

Derek lunged for Stiles’ neck like an animal and latched on as Stiles let out yet another load moan. If anyone was waiting for the bathroom, they would have no problem guessing what was going on behind closed doors, but Derek didn’t care. He was way past caring. Ever since he saw Stiles hanging off of Danny, all he wanted to do was to get his mouth on him. Show everyone who cared to look that Stiles was his. 

He bit and he sucked and he rubbed his stubble all over Stiles neck, partly because he knew Stiles enjoyed it, partly because he knew it would leave a mark, and Stiles just let him do it. Let him paint his neck and mark him, even when Derek couldn’t offer him the same reassurance.

“I’m not having sex with you in the bathroom of a frat house,” Stiles panted after several minutes of this. “I’m not supposed to be having sex with you at all.” Derek nodded against his neck.

“Handjobs?” he asked hopefully as he finally pulled away. Stiles considered this for a moment, but then shook his head. 

“I’ve got a better idea. Pants off.” Derek stared at him in shock, hoping for some clarification, but Stiles didn’t bother providing any. “Pants off!” Stiles said again, working on his own as he spoke. Derek’s stomach fluttered excitedly at being ordered around and although he really didn’t see how taking his pants off was going to make it any less likely for them to have sex in a bathroom, he went ahead and did it, dropping them to his ankles.

Stiles had already finished removing his own pants by the time Derek looked up, and he was standing there, rock hard, without a trace of embarrassment. “Good,” he smiled. “Now turn around.”

“Stiles,” Derek hedged, rolling his eyes slightly. 

“Turn around,” Stiles insisted, walking over to him and whispering in his ear. Derek shivered at their closeness and then let Stiles turn him so that his hands were braced on the wall in front of him. He spread his legs because that’s how it usually went, but Stiles just nudged them back together with his foot. “Do you trust me?” he asked and Derek nodded, not even having to think about the answer. He’d never trusted anyone more than he trusted Stiles. Even before they slept together, he was the one that Derek confided in with all of his relationship problems and even now—when he had enough ammo to effectively ruin Derek’s life—he never once threatened to use it.

Stiles stepped closer so that he was pressed against Derek’s back and ran his hands almost lovingly up his sides. His cock was nestled snugly between the crevice of Derek’s ass cheeks and Stiles thrust forward lazily a few times before pulling back and situating himself so that he could thrust between Derek’s thighs instead. 

“Fuck,” Stiles whimpered, burying his nose in Derek’s neck as he continued to rock into him. “You feel so good,” He reached forward and grabbed Derek’s cock in his hand, working it in time with his thrusts until Derek was left panting.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Derek muttered and he felt Stiles bury his nose further into his neck, like he just couldn’t pull himself away. Derek reached back to steady him, guiding Stiles forward with a reassuring hand, until the boy picked up the pace and they were both nothing more than a writhing mess plastered against a bathroom wall.

It was a kiss that finished him. Stiles pulled back just as his thrusts started to become more erratic and he pulled Derek’s face around gently so that he could press their lips together. The kiss was messy and the angle was awkward, but that was all it took to get Derek shooting all over himself and the wall in front of him. Stiles stroked him through it and then found his own climax a minute later, coating Derek’s thighs with his come. 

They didn’t move but just stood there, Stiles pressed hotly against Derek’s back, until they both had their breathing relatively in control. 

“I think that might have counted as ‘sex in a frat house bathroom,’” Derek joked with a grin. Stiles groaned, but pressed a soft kiss to Derek’s neck before backing away.

“We tell no one about this,” he smirked, grabbing the roll of toilet paper so they could clean themselves off. They did so in silence. Stiles finished dressing first and Derek watched out of the corner of his eye as he hopped onto the counter and just sat there, staring. 

“What?” Derek laughed, tucking himself back into his pants. It wasn’t that Stiles’ gaze made him uncomfortable; it was just intense. He buttoned his jeans and then turned to Stiles with an eyebrow raised. Stiles shrugged. 

“Nothing,” he sighed, and then seemed to think better of it. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you, but I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.” Derek’s heart stopped beating as Stiles’ words hit him. His throat closed up and even if he had known which words to say, he didn’t think he’d be able to say them. Stiles continued, “You’re my cliché, Derek Hale. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I want to spend all day with you, everyday. I want to grow old with you. I want to be able to hold your hand in public and kiss you when the sun’s out. And I don’t want to share.” Stiles’ face was open, waiting, but Derek couldn’t breathe because he wanted all of those things too. So bad. 

“I…” he said. “I…I have to go.” It wasn’t what he meant to say, but the words were true nevertheless. He needed to get out of that suffocatingly small bathroom immediately. Stiles rolled his eyes, as if he had expected that all along, and Derek took that as permission to go. He threw open the bathroom door, pushing past the people waiting outside of it, and stormed out of the frat house as fast as he could manage. Stiles didn’t follow him.

The cool night air took Derek by surprise as he stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down. He made a beeline for the row of taxis idling by the curve and climbed into the first one he came to. 

“Drive,” he ordered and the car took off without question. Derek directed him to Jennifer’s apartment just outside of town because honestly he had nowhere else to go. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to see her, but Stiles would find him if he went back to the dorms. 

The cab dropped him off right outside of Jennifer’s apartment. Derek made his way to the front door and knocked. Erica answered the door in her pajamas a few seconds later, her long, blonde hair thrown into a messy bun on the top of her head. “Der-bear!” she cooed excitedly, pulling him into their apartment without question. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Derek didn’t know the answer to that, so he kept his mouth shut. He found Jennifer sitting on the couch in sleep shorts and a tank top. She stood upon seeing him and immediately rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?” she asked, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. The apartment was too bright and everything seemed a little fuzzy around the edges, but Derek managed to shrug. “Where have you been?”

“Frat party,” Derek answered. “I might be a little drunk.” Erica laughed from behind him, but Jennifer seemed to find the whole situation more worrisome than amusing. 

“Why don’t you go to my bedroom and I’ll find you something non-alcoholic to drink?” Derek nodded because water actually sounded like a great idea, and then made his way to Jennifer’s room. The bed wasn’t made, which was unusual, but then again, she hadn’t exactly been expecting him.

He thought briefly about pulling out his phone and calling Stiles, but even drunk he realized that would be a bad idea. He was in Jennifer’s bed, for God’s sake. There was a line. 

Jennifer joined him less than a minute later, shutting the bedroom door behind her, and handing Derek a bottle of water, which he finished almost before she sat down next to him on the bed. Slowly, the haziness began to lift.

“You sure you’re all right?” she asked after a few minutes. “You look a little pale. What happened?” Derek thought about telling her at least part of the truth—that he’d gotten into a fight with Stiles—but in the end, he decided it wasn’t worth it. Derek’s stomach was still in knots from thinking about what Stiles had said to him. 

“Nothing,” Derek told her. “I’m fine.” Both statements were lies, but it was better than admitting to Jennifer that he was freaking out because he thought he’d made a terrible mistake in choosing her over Stiles. A mistake that he wasn’t sure he could live with.

And that’s when he realized why he’d come to Jennifer’s in the first place. It wasn’t for comfort or sanctuary. It was for closure.

Derek’s heart began pounding dangerously as the realization hit him and he was sure that he probably looked terrified. “Calm down,” Jennifer whispered into his ear, and it sent a shiver down his spine because she was close, _really_ close, and they hadn’t been really close in quite some time. Jennifer climbed onto the bed so that she was behind Derek and began to knead his shoulders beneath her fingers. Derek tried to relax into her touch, but he was wound too tightly for any massage to be able to alleviate the tension.

“Jennifer,” he started, planning to tell her to stop, but she just hummed and began kissing down his neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that had all of Derek’s blood rushing to his groin. To be honest, he was just relieved to find that he was able to get hard for her because her lips were nothing like Stiles’. They were soft and hesitant against his neck whereas Stiles would be licking and sucking and leaving marks that Derek would give him hell for later. Stiles was a lot of things, but hesitant wasn’t one of them. He took what he wanted from Derek and Derek enjoyed every second of it.

“Jenn,” Derek tried again, but his voice was raspy and breathless and he sounded turned on, even to his own ears, so he really couldn’t be surprised when she took it for encouragement and began working her hands down across his chest until she was able to rub his growing erection through his pants—and holy shit, what was happening? 

“Jenn…what?” Derek asked, pulling away so that he could see her face. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, but there was a confidence in her eyes that Derek had never seen there before.

“I think I’ve made you wait long enough,” she shrugged and then climbed off of the bed and kneeled in front of Derek like it wasn’t the most shocking thing he had ever seen in his nineteen years of life. Like she was actually ready to give him the one thing he’d ever truly wanted from her—right when he had been prepared to shut that door forever.

It was a test—he knew it was a test—but he didn’t know who was testing him. Jennifer undid his pants before he could even process what was happening and by the time he had, his jeans and his underwear had been pulled down to mid-thigh and his cock was standing fully erect between the two of them. 

Looking at it, Derek was more self-conscious than he had ever been with Stiles and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Jennifer because it was so embarrassing, but then her hand was wrapped around him and his embarrassment was quickly replaced with nausea. Jennifer’s grip was loose and it wasn’t really doing anything for him. In fact, he could feel his erection begin to flag as panic rose inside of him. What was he doing? Why did this feel so damn wrong?

And then, like a cascade of ice-cold water crashing around him, Derek realized why his stomach was in knots. Why being with Jennifer felt wrong in a way that it never had with Stiles. It was because she _wasn’t_ Stiles. 

“Jenn, stop,” he said immediately and she did, pulling away as if she’d been stung. Derek quickly pulled his pants back up and tried to even his breathing. He had been sleeping with Stiles for almost three months and never once—not even the first time—had it felt wrong. It was bad, he knew that, but it never made him want to throw up, pull his hair out, scream. Being with Stiles had left him feeling light and whole for the first time in his life, but this—what he was about to do with Jennifer— _that_ was cheating.

With some difficulty, Derek forced himself to look over at the girl that he had spent the past three years loving the best way he knew how. He took in her worried frown, her rosy cheeks, and he knew that he was about to break her heart, but the most horrible thing was that he didn’t care. She deserved far better than anything he would ever be able to give her. 

“I’m so sorry, Jennifer,” he choked out, a single tear falling down his cheek. “But we need to talk.” And just like that, he felt a chapter of his life—one that had gone on for far too long—come to a close.

*

It was almost dawn once Derek had walked the four miles back to his own dorm room. He pushed the door open to their suite and shut it quietly, trying not to wake anyone who might be sleeping. The common area was empty when he arrived, which was a bit of a disappointment if Derek was being honest. He’d kind of thought Stiles might be up waiting for him, but then again, why would he? 

Derek heaved a frustrated sigh, resigned to postponing the conversation he needed to have with Stiles until morning, and made his way down the hall to his own bedroom. It was just annoying because there was _so much_ that he needed to say and there was no telling whether he’d remember it all in the morning. He needed to tell Stiles that he was sorry—for all of it, every single thing he had put him through since move-in day. He needed to tell him that he should have broken up with Jennifer months ago, right after that very first time. He wanted to say that Stiles was everything he’d ever wanted, that it was never just sex for him either, and that he wanted Stiles to be more than just his first. He wanted him to be his last, his only.

Derek stood in the hallway with his hand on his doorknob, thinking all of these things, and finally he snapped. “Fuck it,” he whispered, and took off down the hall before his mind could catch up with his feet. Without pausing to overthink things, he yanked Stiles’ bedroom door open as quietly as he could manage, and stepped into the boy’s room.

Stiles had blackout curtains, so even though the common area was beginning to fill with light, Stiles’ room was still dark. It was not dark enough, however, for Derek to miss the fact that Stiles was sitting up in bed, like he’d been waiting for him to come home, and it settled something inside of Derek, calmed him down, and made everything else seem trivial because there was Stiles, waiting for him, and it felt right.

Stiles met Derek’s eyes and shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, and just like that, all of the well-rehearsed words went flying out of Derek’s head. 

“I broke up with Jennifer,” Derek said. Stiles’ eyes widened, but Derek didn’t even pause long enough for that to sink in before he continued. “And I love you too.” That was the gist of it really and there would be time for more words later. Slowly, Stiles’ look of utter shock morphed into a smile and then he was making grabby hands at Derek and pulling him onto the bed with him. 

Stiles kissed him, soft and sweet, like the first kiss they should have had, and it felt right and whole and perfect. They made love then, on the same bed that they had that first time so many months ago. And there were things they were going to have to work out, yes, but Stiles was his, only his, and after that, Derek knew they could make it through anything.


End file.
